Fresh bread appeared twice a week.
Clara made soup from leftover vegetables.
She repaired worn blankets.
Organized the pantry.
And convinced Gabriel to stop storing nails in the same drawer as the kitchen knives.
He protested.
She laughed.
Eventually, he moved the nails.
Gabriel continued working long hours.
He repaired fences damaged by wind.
Checked the animals.
And brought water from the pump whenever the ground froze too hard for Clara to manage comfortably.
He began leaving small things for her.
A piece of ribbon purchased in town.
A jar of honey.
A book he'd found at the general store.
A smooth stone shaped like a heart that he claimed Jasper had discovered near the creek.
Clara treasured every one.
She didn't assume the gifts meant he had forgiven her.
But she recognized his care.
Sometimes they sat beside the fire after supper.
Clara read aloud.
Gabriel repaired harnesses.
Or sharpened tools.
Or simply listened.
He discovered that she loved adventure stories.
She discovered that he enjoyed poetry but was embarrassed to admit it.
One evening, she found a worn book tucked behind a stack of almanacs.
She opened it.
Then looked toward him.
"Gabriel Morrow."
He glanced up.
"What?"
She held the book.
"Poetry?"
He groaned.
"Put that down."
She laughed.
"Why?"
"Because you'll never let me hear the end of it."
She smiled mischievously.
"You're a secret romantic."
He shook his head.
"Hardly."
She opened the book.
Began reading.
Gabriel tried to look annoyed.
But after several lines, he stopped working.
He listened.
Clara noticed.
She continued.
And when she finished, Gabriel sat staring into the fire.
For a moment, he seemed far away.
Then she asked softly, "Did you like that one?"
He nodded.
"My mother used to read it."
Clara's expression changed.
She closed the book gently.
"What was she like?"
Gabriel smiled faintly.
"Stubborn."
Clara laughed.
"That sounds familiar."
He glanced toward her.
She smiled.
He shook his head.
Then continued.
"She worked hard. Didn't complain much. And she believed everybody deserved a full plate even when there wasn't enough food to go around."
Clara listened.
He told her about childhood winters.
His father's forge.
The little house.
His siblings.
And the fever that nearly killed him.
For the first time, he spoke openly about the illness.
The doctor.
And the diagnosis that followed him into adulthood.